


Shelter

by SugarFey



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Lucky and Liho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 03:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2531663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarFey/pseuds/SugarFey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Lucky chases a cat and Clint learns something new about Natasha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samalander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samalander/gifts).



> This is a gift for samalander, on her birthday! I hope you have an amazing day.
> 
> This fic is unbetaed, so any mistakes are my own.

It’s been a long week and Lucky is pawing at the door, so Clint ignores the gathering clouds on the horizon and takes Lucky out for a long run.

It seems like a great idea, just him and his dog, the stresses of the world drowned out by the music blaring through the special sport headphones Kate gave him for Christmas. At least, it’s a great idea until Lucky spots a sleek black cat sunning itself on the sidewalk like it owns the place.

“Aw, cat,” is all Clint has time to say, and then Lucky is off.

The cat hisses and shoots around the corner, Lucky following behind. Swearing, Clint tries to run behind them, dodging confused tourists and angry locals. He collides with a shopper and nearly sends her bags flying.

“Sorry, ma’am, so sorry,” he manages, helping the woman take hold of her bags while craning his head to find Lucky.

Clint breathes a sigh of relief when he spots Lucky standing at the steps of a house, wagging his tail enthusiastically. The cat has been picked up by a woman on the steps.

A gorgeous woman.

A gorgeous woman with red hair.

A gorgeous woman with red hair who could kill him with her pinky.

_Oh, shit._

“Natasha?” he says, cautiously approaching the steps.

The woman turns around, holding the cat in her arms. “Clint? Right. I thought this dog looked familiar.”

“You have a cat,” Clint observes stupidly, because never, in all the many years he’s known her, has Natasha professed a liking for cats.

Natasha frowns. “She’s not my cat. I feed her sometimes, that’s all.”

He can’t help grinning at that. “Sure looks like your cat.”

Natasha keeps frowning at him while the bundle of black fur in her arms purrs happily. Lucky comes up to Clint and licks his hand, looking as pleased as a one-eyed dog can be, which is pretty damn pleased.

It’s also the moment the heavens choose to open and dump rain upon the citizens of New York.

“Okay,” Natasha sighs grudgingly. “You can come in.”

“Which one of us?” Clint calls over the rain.

The cat squirms in her arms, eager to get out of the wet. “All of you.”

Natasha’s apartment is the polar opposite to Clint’s; neat, with tasteful but impersonal furnishings. Even the artwork on the wall looks like something out of a catalogue. The only items that give any key to Natasha’s personality are the well-thumbed books in the bookcase.

Clint sits down on the couch and the little black cat instantly jumps into his lap.

“Aw, she likes me.”

“That’s where she normally sits.”

As if to emphasise Natasha’s words, the cat sinks her claws into Clint’s thigh.

“Ow!”

“Liho, no,” Natasha chides, not sounding angry at all.

Liho shoots Clint a look of disdain.

“Well, at least Lucky loves me.”

Lucky puts one big paw on Natasha’s knee and looks at her as though she hung the sky with pizza. Traitor.

Natasha laughs, and Clint forgives his treacherous pet—for now. She scratches Lucky behind the ear and stands up, brushing off her sinfully tight jeans. “I’ll make us some tea. I only just got back, so I haven’t had time to buy food.”

Clint breaks off his staring contest with Liho. “Been on another of your super secret missions you’re never going to tell me about?”

“Something like that,” Natasha says over her shoulder as she makes for the kitchen.

Clint tries to resume his staring contest, but Liho jumps off the couch with a soft hiss. She saunters past Lucky and settles in the centre of the carpet to lick herself.

_So this is what feline rejection feels like._

In the absence of Liho, Clint casts his eyes around the room. Across from him is a giant wall-mounted TV screen. He checks the time on his phone and nearly bounces to his feet.

“Hey,” he says when Natasha comes back into the living room. “Y’know, _Dog Cops_ is on soon.”

Natasha wrinkles her nose. “That show you and Parker are obsessed with?”

“It’s not a show, Tasha, it’s an _experience_.”

“Sure.”

“No, I mean it,” he insists. “Sit down.”

He reaches for the remote a little too quickly, because Lucky perks his ears up at Clint’s sudden movement. He leaps up, ready for playtime.

A leap that, unfortunately, sends Lucky crashing against Natasha’s lampstand and sends a sleek vase straight to the floor, where it smashes spectacularly.

Clint freezes. At first he’s unable to move, staring down at the shards in horror. Then he finally works up the courage to look at Natasha.

She’s looking down over the edge of her mug with her lips pursed and one eyebrow raised. “Well, then.”

“I’m so sorry,” Clint stammers. “I replace it, I swear—“

“It’s fine,” Natasha interrupts, “really…”

“No, it’s not,” he insists. “I can buy it myself, or I’ve give you the money for it--”

“Clint!” Natasha is standing now. “It’s fine. The vase was in the apartment when I bought it.”

Clint swallows, trying to focus on what she’s actually saying. “Huh?”

She shrugs. “I bought the apartment partially furnished. Everything in this room was here when I moved in. One vase less doesn’t make a difference to me.”

“Oh.” Clint watches her as the words sink in. “You didn’t choose anything yourself?”

“Not really.” Natasha bends over and gently pushes a curious Liho away from the shards. “There never seemed to be a point.”

She rests her hands on her knees, her head bowed. Her hair falls over her face so Clint can’t read her expression, but he has known her long enough to imagine the wistful look she gets when she thinks of missed chances.

The moment is gone as quickly as it came, and Natasha passes him the TV remote. “I have to sweep this up. Want to find _Dog Cops?_ ”

Clint considers prompting her to say more about her apartment, but it’s pointless trying to get Natasha to talk when she doesn’t want to. He should know.

“ _Dog Cops_ it is. You’re in luck, tonight’s the season premiere.”

“Wow,” Natasha replies, deadpan. “I can’t wait.”

The episode is tense, because Detective Whiskers gets shot at _again,_ and Detective Paws is obviously in love with him, who do the writers think they’re kidding? Clint keeps up a running commentary for Natasha’s benefit, because, he stresses, she’s missed the first two seasons, so he needs to explain the nuances of the character interaction.

Natasha does not try to interrupt him, to her credit. Liho curls up on her lap but Lucky’s attempt to climb onto the couch is less successful, and Lucky settles for lying at her feet. Lucky is still a traitor.

The storm has long stopped by the time the episode ends, and Natasha looks tired, even if she won’t admit it. Clint thanks her for letting him stay and gets ready to leave. Liho winds around his legs with the air of ownership.

“I think you’ve been claimed,” Natasha remarks.

“Yeah.” Clint watches as Liho now rubs up to Lucky. “What can I say, she’s got good taste.”

“Your ego is as huge as ever, Barton.”

Clint waggles his eyebrows “That’s not the only thing that’s—“

“Oh god, get out of my house,” Natasha groans, but she’s smiling as she opens the door.

Clint whistles and Lucky trots up to join him. There is still a question in the back of his mind, a question Clint needs answered.

“Did you seriously name your cat ‘bad luck’?”

Natasha folds her arms. “Coincidence.”

“Of course.” Clint gives her his best grin, the one Carol once drunkenly described as ‘panty-melting.’ “G’night, Tasha.”

 

* * *

 

When Clint gets home, he goes through some old photo albums and picks out some nice ones of Natasha laughing with Sharon and Bobbi and looking over plans with Steve, and one of Clint and Natasha in the lounge room of the Avengers mansion. Natasha is holding the remote out of his reach and Clint is holding his arms up to plead.

Clint puts the photos in an envelope and writes down the address of Natasha’s post office box. At the last minute he decides to include a note.

_If you ever want something personal on the walls._


End file.
